[Introduction] Where'd my boat get to?

[mal_badinlatin]

Comments

[emocaliban]

Let's see what Mal thinks of Cal. (Hey, it rhymes.)

Caliban is inside, slouched on a couch and dreaming fitfully. The moment someone steps into the room, though, he jacknifes upwards and is fumbling under his jacket, but once he registers that it is not, actually, Darkling or Auphe or anything else that he wants to kill immediately, he just adjusts his jacket, uncomfortably.

"Jesus," he says, "Can't people give a warning or something?"

Never mind the fact that he was sleeping in the main room.

[mal_badinlatin]

Mal lets out a high-pitched yelp that's so high-pitched, it barely sounds like it could have come from a manly set of lungs, and jumps a bit himself, coming close to popping some of the stitches in the process. "Didn't see y' there," he says, the closest thing to an apology he's going to produce.

[emocaliban]

Caliban gives Mal a slightly pained look for the yelp, and rubs his eyes, grimacing. "Yeah, evidently," he says, dryly, "I guessed by the yell. Don't hurt yourself or anything."

He stretches out and swings his legs off the couch, cracking his neck to the side. "--oh right. Hi. Nice to meet you and everything."

[mal_badinlatin]

"Can't get hurt any worse since I got shot in th' gut before I woke up here," he says, glancing at his left side. "I'm Mal Reynolds, captain of the Serenity."

[blindbomber]

Depressed bird is depressed. What better way to combat that than with food! Is Mal is feeling hungry (and eager to meet someone that looks only mostly human), Icarus is puttering around the kitchen, making a lot of thick stew and baking a large loaf of sourdough bread. Most of it is for himself, but he's always happy to share here.

His wings are folded tightly behind his back as he moves in an effort to keep from knocking anything over. He tries to be careful, really.

[mal_badinlatin]

The smells of food cooking -- real food, not protein in any color of the rainbow cooked up in the galley -- draws Mal into the kitchen like iron filings to a magnet. And then he pauses in the doorway, trying not to stare. His belief in God died in Serenity Valley, and so he knows there ain't no such things as angels either. But the sight of a young man with wings brings a puzzled, "Huh..." from him.

[blindbomber]

It probably doesn't help much considering the size of the wings and the size of the boy carrying them. Iggy tilts his head at the sound.

"There's plenty if you're hungry," he offers hesitantly. He doesn't know the voice, but then a muttered sound isn't really enough to go on. "I'm not gonna bite you or anything."

[mal_badinlatin]

"Wouldn't mind a bowl or two of that stew," he says. "I ain't sure when I last had anything solid to chew." Eying the stew he adds, "Them real vegetables?"

[daddyissuesjnr]

Mal might run into a bratty and very bored teenage king sometime later. Melou is currently sitting on the porch, not really doing anything (because there's nothing to do, he says), just watching people go by and looking at them grumpily.

[mal_badinlatin]

He's just returning to the porch, after roaming the grounds, when he spots the youngster with the grumpy expression. "They used t' say 'Watch out yer face don't freeze', if y' looked like that," he says, half-teasingly.

[daddyissuesjnr]

Melou looks up at Mal. And blinks.

"What?"

He wasn't expecting anyone to speak to him, and he has no idea what Mal is talking about.

[mal_badinlatin]

"That mopey look on yer face, yer dog die?" he asks. Kids are one thing, mopey kids are another, and mopey whiny ones who look old enough to know when to suck it up are a whole other ball of wax.

[nuns4money]

Have a gunwoman with sunglasses busy in the main room with a large bandage on her right arm and a tattoo of something resembling a shield on her left. She's tall, blond, amazonian, and very amoral.

She busy unjamming her gun, and thanks to someones help, she can move her arm a bit more.

"My baby, you'll be fixed in in no time." Yes Eda baby talks to her gun, she even has a name for it, Anna Lee.

[mal_badinlatin]

That's almost as weird as Jayne naming that big-ass rifle of his Vera, but Mal ain't one to judge, particularly from a woman who looks like she could hand him his ass easy-like.

"Gun jam when y' least need that happenin'?" he asks, with a hint of empathy.

[nuns4money]

She looks at Mal, she likes this guy's accent, reminds her of her Father.

"Hell yeah. First time ever happening. I usually take very good care of Anna Lee."

[mal_badinlatin]

"Someone rig it on y'? Where I come from a gun's often the best partner y' c'n have," he says, leaning one hip against the edge of the table. "That an' a good boat."

[scalpedsociety]

If Mal takes a peek in the library, he might spot a lovely, but strange looking petite woman that looks like a grown-up porcelain doll. She's busy studying her alchemy and getting her lessons planned for her class. (You can never be prepared enough.) Her left arm is bandaged as well, and her small scarred hands are covered with gloves.

She looks up at the man. (Hopefully, he has a shirt on.) Her eyes are a tad unsettling, hollow, dim and bottomless. It suggests that she has done some things that aren't very nice. "Hello there sir, are you lost?" Her voice is polite, sweet, and has a touch of a southern accent to it.

Aside from that, a Dimpled Little Darling with Curls. (HA!)

[mal_badinlatin]

He's found a shirt, though it's untucked on his left side, and he's favoring it. And he's armed, but that doesn't stop him from hesitating, briefly mistaking her for the wily Saffron... but no, this gal looks older and a bit... crazier.

"Y' might put it that way: at first I thought I'd just lost m' boat, but I lost m' whole world," he says, wryly.

[scalpedsociety]

Unlike say... Saffron, Aramat's politeness is real. (Then again, that arguably makes her more dangerous.)

She smiles at him, "Well, this isn't a bad place to get lost in. Especially if you're dead." She sighs.

Unfortunately for me...

[mal_badinlatin]

The thought that he might not have really awakened crosses his mind again. "Depends on if y' believe in heaven, and I doubt God would truck much with me for the things I done. Considerin' the things I seen Him allow, I don't take much stock in Him much."